All Good Things
by Amory Sparkly Bat
Summary: Kurt ruminates over how replaceable everyone is as he walks the halls of McKinley. My somewhat sad/mixed feelings on the new season of Glee expressed through fiction.


**Summary:**Kurt ruminates over how replaceable everyone was as he walks the halls of McKinley. My somewhat sad/mixed feelings on the new season of Glee expressed through fiction.

**Disclaimer:** Glee is not mine. Ryan Murphy, it's all yours and I have nothing but my latex dress to give you if you sue me. Oh, you want that? Damn!

o o o

**All Good Things**

They told me I was special. They told me I could make a difference. They told me I mattered, that I would be remembered. They told me that I could change the world.

What a beautiful lie.

Is this what being a grown up is? Realizing that, when it comes down to it, you can't change anything but yourself?

She is beautiful, the new Queen Bee of McKinley, with her blonde ponytail and her Cheerios skirt. Kitty, they call her, but all I see is Quinn. Oh, not the preggers Quinn or the wheelchair Quinn or even the Glee club spy Quinn. The Quinn before all that. The Quinn who didn't even know my name. The Quinn who didn't care about anything but securing her place on the homecoming court.

I flash her a smile as I pass. It isn't returned. Why would she smile at me? She is royalty, and I am a boy with no purpose, washed up before I even had the chance to begin.

The lockers blur together, just like my memories of this place. I flinch as two bullies, one black and one white, charge past, but no Red Dye #2 falls upon me. I am not their target anymore. They are headed for the pretty boy three classrooms down. He isn't wearing his shoes or his wig or his makeup today; he doesn't even look as Fancy as me. But the bullies don't see me, they're locked upon newer, younger prey. I have been replaced.

A shove comes from behind and I stumble forward as the boy who knocked over the music stand at auditions—Jake, was it?—pushes me out of his way with an angry look on his face. For a moment I feel flattered that someone at this school still notices I'm here, then I realize he's shoving *everyone* out of his way, including a boy with one leg and the sex ed teacher. Suddenly I wish I kept a razor in my back pocket, then I could shave the sides of his head just so something in this building I no longer belong in would look familiar. It would be like old times, being shoved aside by a mohawked bully badly in need of anger management classes.

I wonder idly if Puck would find how easily he was replaced as depressing as I do.

Oh, here comes the new Rachel—all of them. These are the people I should feel the most connected to, but the angry boy really is a more familiar sight. Something has changed in the people I called my friends. In my absence they have become divided again, once more fighting over who will get the solo with no sympathy for one another. It reminds me of the first few days of Glee Club, when Rachel declared herself the lead in everything and Mercedes and I bickered over the right to wear zebra stripes on Tuesdays.

I duck into the astronomy classroom to avoid them. They don't notice, all too wrapped up in themselves.

"Hey, Kurt."

I jump at the sound, nearly knocking over a stack of science books as my eyes rest upon the source of the voice.

What the hell is Dave Karofsky doing in the astronomy room? It is a fair question, a logical question, so I go ahead and ask it. "What the hell are you doing in the astronomy room?"

"I could ask you the same question, Fancy," Dave replies. His voice is low but gentle, and I find it oddly soothing. "In fact, I think I will. What the hell are you doing in the astronomy room?"

"Hiding from the Glee Club," I answer honestly, giving a little shrug when he raises an eyebrow at me. "Now, my turn. What the hell are *you* doing in the astronomy room?"

Dave smirks, dropping his eyes to the floor then back up again, dark lashes fluttering. "Who says I'm not counting the stars?"

A huff of laughter comes from my mouth as I look up at the many hanging models. "Oh, you're here to count stars? How many are there, then?" It sounds like a challenge, but a smile is blooming on my face.

"Well, as of now, I count one." Dave grins at me and I shake my head in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"I count one star," Dave says as he leans heavily against the teacher's desk, reaching up to tug at the collar of his red polo shirt like it has suddenly tightened around his neck. "Since you came in, anyway."

Oh, that's a laugh. "I don't know if you've heard," I say dryly, "but I'm serving coffee down at the Lima Bean these days. Not that being a barista ain't a blast, but the job is more of a black hole than a shining star." I pause, then laugh. It's not a bad metaphor. A black hole being a fallen star and all.

"Your day is coming, Kurt." Dave's voice is utterly serious, and I can't help but smile at him.

"Thanks, but I don't think so." My gaze drifts back over to the door. Behind it is a world of jocks and cheerleaders, losers and geeks. Four years spent walking its halls and not a single thing has changed.

"It's kind of depressing, isn't it?"

I start at the words, looking back over at Dave with a furrowed brow. "What do you mean?"

Dave gives a soft shrug. "How the world goes on without us. You know, after the whole suicide thing, I had actually managed to convince myself that, if I was gone, it might make a difference. But coming back to this place… It really nails it home how replaceable you are. There's a new guy using my locker and a new guy playing my spot on the hockey team. There's a new guy throwing slushies at girlie boys and making fart jokes at lunch. It's all exactly the same, except it's never going to be the same again."

"Dave," I say in a low voice, stomach suddenly in knots. "You're not thinking about…"

"No, no," Dave says quickly, holding up his hands. "No, I would never try that again. I have too much to live for. I mean, yeah, okay, McKinley High Karofsky is no more. Another oversexed bastard has taken my place. But that just means I have to find a new place in life. Preferably someplace where I'm not so easily replaced."

"Is there anyplace like that?" I ask, moving from my spot near the door to lean on the desk next to Dave, staring up at him seriously. "Or is it all just a farce? I really thought I made a difference here, Dave. I thought that Kurt Hummel had put his mark on this place. But now here I am, looking in from the outside, and not a single thing has changed. The Pucks are still bullying the Kurts, the Finns are still chasing after the Quinns, the Rachels are still annoying the world with their egos and their fashion sense. It's all the same, yet I no longer have a place in it."

Dave shrugs again. "It's always going to be the same, Kurt. This is fucking high school. There is a reason every movie and TV show for teenagers is filled with the same stereotypes. But that doesn't mean that you didn't make a difference. For one thing, I probably wouldn't even be here talking to you if you hadn't been willing to help me out after I…" He shifts, looking uncomfortable. "After I tried to kill myself. I'm pretty sure that, without you, I would have tried again, and done a better job this time. Maybe you didn't cause a free love movement to sweep across McKinley and turn everyone into a bunch of politically correct hippies who all hold hands and sing songs about how much they love each other. But you *did* make a difference, even if they were smaller than you might like. Now… Now it's time to accept that the world of high school will go on without you and move on."

My throat feels thick and I swallow hard, trying to clear it up. "It's hard, though, moving on. I have so many memories here. Good and bad. This place was such a major part of my life."

Dave smiles at me. "I know the feeling." He reaches down and pulls something out of the bag at his feet. "That's why I came here to get this."

He holds out a small notebook and I take it from him, running my finger along the spiral binding. 'Dave's Stoopid Fucking Required Journal' is written across the front in sloppy letters.

"After I tried to kill myself, Ms. Pillsbury decided I should keep a journal to record my feelings in. Mr. Hardy took it away from me on the last day of school for writing in it instead of listening to him babble about spending our summers stargazing or whatever. I forgot and left it. I figured it was a lost cause, but I was driving by McKinley and decided to stop by and see if he still had it."

"Wow," I say, "I didn't take you for a diary type."

Dave laughs. "I'm not. But it did help." He pauses, looking a little nervous. "Open it."

I raise an eyebrow at him then obey, flipping open the cover. Taped to the inside cover is a picture of me, obviously ripped out of our junior class yearbook because there is a miniskirt drawn in Sharpie over my pants.

"Best photo I could find. The rest were defaced even worse."

I look up at him with wide eyes and he holds up a hand.

"Hey, I know I'm not your type. I accepted it, and I have no plans to stalk you or whatever. It's just… you're strong Kurt, stronger than you even know. I know for a fact that you being at this school changed lives, because it helped change mine. So before you regulate yourself to a life of serving coffee at Denny's or whatever, remember that you can do more than you think. After all, I bet you didn't go into McKinley the first day of your freshman year expecting to save a boy's life. All good things must come to an end. It just means you have a chance to move onto something better."

I close the notebook and hold it out to Dave, my hands only shaking a little. "Thank you, Dave."

He raises his eyebrow. "What are you thanking me for, Fancy? I should be thanking you."

I reach out suddenly, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm not the only lifesaver in this room, David."

The End.


End file.
